


Oh my my, oh hell yes

by Trojie



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Dirty Talk, Gender or Sex Swap, M/M, Panties, Sibling Incest, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-14
Updated: 2013-06-14
Packaged: 2017-12-14 23:04:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/842383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trojie/pseuds/Trojie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are some phone calls Sam hates having to make. The kind that begin with 'Hey Bobby, so, uh, Dean's been turned into a -' are pretty much at the top of the list.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Oh my my, oh hell yes

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Perverse_Bang fest 2013:
> 
> **Prompt:** [Male character in established m/m relationship gets turned into a girl. While efforts are going on to turn them back, they continue having anal sex with their partner (IDEK, because pregnancy worries or something? DOESN'T MATTER) and hey, turns out? CAN BE SUPER FUN FOR GIRLS TOO. Cos yes.](http://perverse-bang.livejournal.com/939.html?thread=30891#t30891)
> 
> **Perversities (Kinks, concepts):** Magical (non-permanent) genderswap, m/f anal sex, fingering, dirty talk, consensual sibling incest, panties.
> 
> **Warnings:** Sibling incest, reference to past underage m/m/f threesome.
> 
> **Author Notes:** Beta-read by Kissyn, saving my Wincestuous butt as usual. Dean's pronouns are male throughout the fic because while (despite the name of the trope and some of Dean's proclivities) his sexual organs might have changed, his gender identity has not. Title from 'Mary Jane's Last Dance' by Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers. This takes place utterly outside canon continuity but if anyone needs a season to orient themselves by, I think this is probably season two or three-ish.

There are some phone calls Sam hates having to make. The kind that begin with 'Hey Bobby, so, uh, Dean's been turned into a -' are pretty much at the top of the list.

Bobby barely even needs to say anything - Sam can _feel_ how pissed off he is by how long he pauses before calling them idiots, and then by the length of time it takes him to say anything else - vague thumps and scritching noises arguing that Bobby's put the phone down in favour of some quick'n dirty research.

'Good news is, transmogrification won't hold unless it was a trickster or a demigod or something that did it, something with serious mojo.' Bobby's gruff when he eventually comes back on the other end of the line. 'Tell me it wasn't one of those.'

'It was just a witch,' Sam says, salting the perimeter of the room with the phone clamped to one ear by his shoulder. Dean's in the bathroom and Sam half doesn't want to think about why and half can't _stop_ thinking about it. 'But she got Dean with a hex bag and ran while he was … changing … and we don't know where she went.'

'Doesn't matter, if it was just a generic hex,' Bobby says, sounding a bit relieved and a lot less pissy. 'You just gotta wait it out - it'll wear off.' There's the noise of thick old paper pages turning in the background. 'And for God's sake don't let him 'wait it out' in a bar.'

'No alcohol?' Sam asks, heart sinking, because that's gonna be hard to enforce ...

'No sex,' Bobby says bluntly. 'He loses that body's virginity, he's stuck in it. Witches are kind of big on the whole 'triple goddess', maiden-mother-crone thing. Right now, he's a maiden. Do _not_ let him go out and take his new anatomy for a test drive, you understand me? Hell, get him drunk, order a pizza, have an early night. With any luck he'll wake up turned back.'

'Right,' says Sam, trying to ignore the fact that staying home with drunk Dean and a pizza is basically how he lost his own virginity way back when. 'Thanks, Bobby.' He hangs up and straightens his shoulders as he slips the phone back in his pocket, and takes a deep breath. They can totally wait this out.

He knocks on the bathroom door. 'Dean?'

'What?' Dean's voice is a bit higher now, Sam notices. Well, that kind of makes sense. 

'You okay in there?' he asks tentatively. 

'Dude, I'm on the john. You wanna give me five?'

That sounds suspiciously normal. Sam was half-worried Dean would be freaking out about this. 'Look,' he says. 'Uh. Bobby says this will wear off, you just ... gotta wait it out.'

'Really? That's it?' Dean demands. 'That can't be it.' He busts open the door and stares kind of wild-eyed at Sam. 'It's never that easy. Normally we have to stab people to get shit like this fixed.'

He's lost about four inches off his height, Sam notices distractedly. And the baggy plaid does nothing to hide the neat nipped-in shape of his waist. Or his breasts. They're kind of impressive.

'Well, uh,' says Sam, awkwardly, dragging his eyes back up to Dean's face. 'No, that's pretty much it. Just ... don't lose your virginity?'

Dean squints at him. 'What?'

'Look, just .. stay here, alright? I'm going to get some food, I'll be back soon, and we can ... wait it out, I guess?'

'Sam -'

'Bye!'

Sam flees for the car like hellhounds are on his tail, trying to tell himself to get a fucking grip. It's not like he doesn't get in Dean's pants on a regular basis, it's not like he can't go a night without it. And it could be the rest of Dean's life in the balance here, he reminds himself. Dean is not going to want to be a girl forever. 

So he's going to get food, take a cold shower, and do what Bobby says. Wait it out. 

***

But when Sam gets back, Dean's on the bed furthest from the door with his hands down his pants. 'Fuck, Sammy, get over here,' he gasps. 'You gotta try this out.'

Sam drops the bag of takeout, suddenly nerveless, because _fuck_. He had such good intentions and as usual, Dean's stomping all over them. 'Dean, we can't -' he tries.

But Dean's horny and frantic - Sam knows the symptoms, the tone of voice. 'It's ok, we can just fool around,' he says. 'I swear, just making out and hands and stuff, come on ...'

'We shouldn't ...' says Sam uncertainly, but he's practically drooling and Dean can definitely see it.

'You don't wanna? When's the last time you had a girl, Sammy? Come on, I know you like getting those big mitts all over a girl, I got tits now, Sam, all yours - ' and it sounds like he's trying to tease Sam, like he's just being a shit and this is a prank, until he adds 'Get over here and fucking _touch_ me, baby brother,' and Sam's gone, over to the bed like a shot.

'You want me to touch you?' He asks it low, crowding into Dean's space, and Dean arches into him.

'Yeah, yeah, fuck, I do,' Dean pants.

'You wet for me?' Sam demands. Dean has a thing about dirty talk and Sam can't even help himself sometimes. He crawls onto the bed, straddling Dean now, pressing him down into the mattress by his hips and shoulders, staring down and watching him touch himself, where his fingers disappear into the fly of his jeans, all flat where he should have a straining erection under the denim -

'Been wet since you left,' Dean says. 'Figure if this is gonna wear off, I should make the most of it. Might be my only chance to -' and he bites his lip to cut himself off but it's too late.

'Only chance to what?' Sam asks, yanking Dean's shirts open and burying his face in the slick curve of muscle linking neck-shoulder-breast. No bra to deal with, because Dean wasn't exactly wearing one when he got turned, so the buttons of his plaid give way and underneath is all this soft, tan skin and curves like nothing on this Earth, mouth-watering. 'You got a little fantasy, Dean?' Sam demands, biting Dean's neck for no reason other than to feel his brother grind up against him, rub his warm, perky breasts against Sam's shirt. 'You want - what? Want me to fuck you like a girl?'

Sam can't deny how hot just saying it gets him. 

'Seen you with 'em,' Dean says, pulling Sam's hand up off his waist and molding it to a breast. Sam's thumb skitters over the nipple on instinct, and Dean sucks in a breath. 'You're all sweet at first, little Sammy, and then when you're sure they're into it ...'

Sam thumbs over Dean's nipple again and watches him flex into it, pressing his head back into the pillow, scrabbling for Sam's jeans. 'Then what, Dean?'

'Then you're a fucking _animal_ ,' Dean growls, getting Sam's belt undone, flies unbuttoned. 'All goddamn hands, pushy little fuck, pick 'em up, put 'em where you want 'em -'

'That what you want?' Sam asks, already hauling Dean into his lap because it's blatantly obvious the answer is yes. 'You never -' He sucks a nipple into his mouth because Dean likes it when he's got a guy's body so maybe he'll like it with this girl body too, and he's unprepared for the _sound_ Dean makes. Oh yes. He still likes it.

'Don't tell you everything,' Dean growls, fisting a hand in Sam's hair and keeping him suckling at his breast, breath hitching with approval when Sam bites gently and then licks, broad-flat-tongued to soothe the hurt. 'Plus, didn't know how to say it. 'Please, baby brother, manhandle me' is kind of weird, isn't it?'

Dean calling him that when they're fucking has always done shit to Sam, because he's fucked up like that, but it's better (or worse) now in that throaty, higher than usual, velvet voice. 

Sam pulls free with a last tight suck and Dean shivers in his hold. 'No,' he says urgently. 'Wanna take care of you, Dean, always have. You want me to do something for you, you know I'll do it.' He doesn't get the opportunity often, really. Normally it's Dean taking care of Sam, nudge-nudge, wink-wink.

'You do plenty,' Dean says, raising up onto his knees and guiding Sam back to latch onto his other nipple, trying to wriggle his own jeans off with the other hand. Sam kisses Dean's breast and slides his hands down to help with the jeans - yanks his down, drags Dean's flies even further open. While Sam's trying to get his the rest of the way off, Dean goes for Sam's shirts.

'God, I want you to fuck me,' Dean breathes, sliding plaid cotton off Sam's shoulders. Before Sam can even say a word he says, 'I know, I know, you can't, stupid fucking spell, I know. But God, I want it.'

And the bad thing, the worst thing, is Sam wants to fuck him too, is starving-hungry for it, and he knows he can't. But ... he knows he's going to, one way or another. 

'Can't fuck you like a girl,' Sam agrees. He mouths at Dean's earlobe, letting the words bubble up. 'But Dean, I can still fuck you. The way we always do. The way you fuck me. Gonna fuck you like a boy in your girl body, Dean. Gonna fuck you up the ass, make you ride me while I touch you -' 

Dean's riding Sam's thigh, and he bites at Sam's lower lip and says, 'Always gotta fucking run your mouth off, don't you,' breathlessly. Sam can feel how wet he is, damp against his skin _through the jeans_ , and he suddenly wants to taste it more than anything else in the world. 

'Why, you want me to do something else with my mouth?' he asks, not caring that it's the worst kind of bad-porno dialogue, and tips Dean back off his lap to sprawl in the bedcovers. He shoves his way in between Dean's legs, getting Dean's knees over his shoulders, and takes a good long look. Dean's all long tanned muscle, but on a smaller scale than he used to be. Smoother skin - tattoo still in place but now it rides the curve down onto Dean's breast instead of lying flat, matching Sam's. And further down, there's no rough happy trail, the V of Dean's hipbones doesn't frame a hard, straining cock between the V of his flies - now it just hints at something else down there. Sam feels dizzy and breathless with how much he wants this, all of this. Not because of the anatomy or the magic or anything else, but … because it's Dean.

'Jesus, Sammy,' Dean moans as Sam bends his head to get down to business. 'You're gonna be the death of me.'

For a second Sam just ... kind of rubs his face there, in the curve of Dean's belly below his open zipper, breathes it in, because it smells like Dean but not like Dean at the same time, warm and familiar and like a long-ago memory. 

'If I am it'll be your fault,' he says, peeling the denim down Dean's thighs. 'You're the one that showed me how.' Dean taught him everything, so it's a stupid thing to say, but he wants to know if Dean remembers this.

'That was a long time ago,' Dean says hoarsely, wriggling so Sam can get the jeans off easier. 'Good times, huh?'

Dean's going commando under there, of course he is. Sam drags his cheek up the skin of Dean's inner thigh. He keeps expecting hair, coarse-grained, and there should be ... well, Dean's usual equipment, but instead there's something Sam used to be a hell of a lot more familiar with, thanks to his brother. 'Yeah,' he says, getting his fingers up there, gently spreading. 'You brought her back to the motel while Dad was on a hunt, some girl ... god, I dunno how you talked her into it, but she was all frisky for the pair of us, and I didn't know what the fuck I was doing, I was _sixteen_ , Dean -'

'- and you took to it like a pro, Sammy,' Dean growls, fisting one hand in Sam's hair. 'I could have charged her money -'

'- you got her skirt off and you told me what to do, every move. It was all you, Dean.' Sam looks up Dean's lean body, his dangerous new curves like a speedway, from under his eyelashes, lets Dean get one good eyeful of how hot Sam is for him, and then leans forward and licks. 

Dean _mewls_. 

He tastes like warm gunmetal, somehow - that edge of a tang, that familiar iron-and-salt. Sam flattens his tongue and starts low, catches the edge of the way into Dean, that place he knows he can't go no matter how much he wants to, likes the way it makes Dean shiver, and pushes up til he hits Dean's clit, and Dean goes kind of nuts under him. 

Sam pulls back just a little, kitten-licks, never really touching, no pressure because Dean told him so many years ago that hinting's better than giving (at least until they're begging you), which Sam has always figured meant that that's what Dean likes - and he's not wrong now just like he hasn't been wrong before. Sam has to hold onto Dean's hips to stop him bucking Sam off, and that's good, means Sam can't give into his other instincts and get his fingers up in Dean. Because he's pretty sure that 'losing your virginity' in this context means penetrative vaginal intercourse, like he has to actually get his dick in there, but he's not sure if there's some stupid little footnote that includes fingering as well, and he can't risk it, he just can't. No matter how much he wants to. 

Sam knows all kinds of ways for a girl to not lose her virginity, if she's keen and you're careful, and he learnt pretty much every single one off Dean, but he doesn't know whose manual this witch was reading. 

Doesn't look like Dean cares, the way he's rolling up into Sam's mouth. He's making these noises, like a drug they're so sweet and wrong, and Sam can't even think for all the things he wants to do to Dean. He's gotta back off, gotta think about this, or he's gonna do something stupid, he knows it.

He pulls back, wipes his mouth and watches the way Dean watches him do it. 

'No,' Dean moans, and reaches for him, tangles his fingers in Sam's hair. 'Get back down there,' he demands. 'You're not finished.'

And how the fuck is Sam supposed to say no to that? He buries his face back between Dean's legs and _savors it_ , tries to show Dean all his lessons didn't go to waste even if Sam hasn't exactly been practicing lately. And maybe he gives in a little bit, lets himself go a bit deeper, pushes with the flat of his tongue into that particular place he knows he can't really go, edges the tip of a finger there to feel the give and to listen to Dean swear the air blue. 

'Jesus, Sammy,' is what Dean ends up panting, over and over. He has one hand wrapped up in Sam's hair, alternately finger-combing kind of frustratedly and pushing to keep Sam's face where it is, doing what it's doing. 'Jesus fuck, you just - yeah, baby brother, that's right, just like that, oh _fuck_ -' and he suddenly clutches hard at Sam with both hands, and Sam licks-licks-licks frantically and tries to tell himself he doesn't need to breathe while Dean has what sounds like a killer orgasm with his thighs clamped around Sam's head. The noises go on for a while, but they're kind of muffled from Sam's perspective. They sound like 'oh fuck, fuck, _fuuuuck_.' 

Dean's not very eloquent when he's coming, but Sam already knew that. 

Meanwhile, Sam is still hard enough to pound nails, and ordinarily he'd be kinda pissed that Dean hadn't waited for him, but Dean's already pulling him back up, a shit-eating grin on his face. 

'Get up here, Sammy, I wanna taste me,' he says. 'Don't you give me that face, baby brother - I'm still raring to go. Not gonna leave you hanging, I swear.' And he kisses himself off Sam's face with tongue and more than a bit of teeth. 'You're close, aren't you.' 

Sam nods, biting at his bottom lip while Dean cards his fingers through his hair. He's trying so hard to keep himself under control, but it's a losing battle. 

'You wanna come?' Dean says. 'S'okay, Sam. You can. Want you to. Wanna see you jack it all over me, then we'll be square. Come on my tits, Sam,' he says, almost begging. 'Wanna feel it - need you to do it.' Sam's still hanging on by the skin of his teeth, caught up in just watching Dean, until Dean rubs his thumb over Sam's hip and murmurs, 'Touch yourself for me, baby.' 

Sam doesn't even need to after that. Dean moans as Sam makes a mess all over him, fucking obscene the way it wets the soft curve of his breasts and the way he sounds. Sam's still panting and shakily trying not to fall over when Dean grins up at him, licking his lips and running his fingers through the slickness on his skin, dragging his wet fingers over his own nipples, watching Sam's face while he does it.

'Fuck, I want you,' Sam pants, dropping to lean over Dean propped up on one hand, running the other over his face. He should want to roll over and sleep, he really should, but Dean's already pushing his hips up again, looking like the best kind of sin, and Sam can't help the words spilling out of his mouth. 'I want you so fucking bad right now,' he says.

'Well I kinda remember you promising to fuck me,' Dean says, tangling his fingers in Sam's hair and pulling him close again. 'You went all caveman there for a moment, Sammy, it was hot as hell.' His eyes are bright and his pupils are dilated wide and black as he mouths at Sam's jaw. 'You gonna follow through on that? Baby boy? You gonna put me where you want me?'

Dean's grinding on him now. Sam's cock is starting to get interested again, which … Jesus. Okay, he's not exactly an old man but he's not sixteen anymore, either - it's been awhile since he was good to go again this fast. 'That really what you want?' he asks, getting his own fist in Dean's hair and pulling his head back so he can look him in the face. 'You sure?' Dean's hungry expression tells him everything he needs to know, and anyway he's starting to want it himself too. It's the girl thing.

See, girls are different. The kind of girls Sam has always managed to pick up are like … well, it's the height. Sam knows he's a big guy, and some girls like that. Really like that. Dean showed him how to treat a girl nice, always make sure you're giving them what they want, but some girls don't want you to _ask_ , they want you to _know_ , they like taking what you give them and thanks to Dean he got good at guessing what they're asking you to take. And Sam likes that, y'know? It's addictive, watching them fall apart. _Taking_ them apart.

But him and Dean have always been on a different footing. They know each other too well, know each other's tricks and take-downs and turn-ons too intimately - they're too evenly matched. But now Dean only just comes up to Sam's shoulder, now he's got all this unfamiliar skin to taste that no-one's ever touched before - now Sam can use all Dean's tactics against him, and it makes his mouth water. 

He wants to roll Dean over and lick him open. He wants to shove him up against the wall and kiss him and bite him and fucking _devour_ him. He wants to get him on his knees and get that pouty, red mouth around his cock, and most of all he wants Dean to look at him the way girls do sometimes, like he's taken their breath away. 

'Come on, Sammy,' Dean breathes into his ear. 'Show me what you got.' He bites Sam's earlobe, and Sam growls and flips him over in one movement, almost before he processes what he's doing.

'Unnh,' Dean says as he hits the mattress and Sam pins him by his wrists, bites the back of his neck for being a shit, and keeps on going, down and down further. Dean spreads his legs before Sam can make him, and he's never this compliant usually, never. Sam presses his forearm down over the small of Dean's back, holding him against the mattress, and licks a spray of freckles on the downcurved trace of his spine that haven't changed despite the shape of everything else altering so fundamentally. Sam lets his teeth drag against Dean's skin. 'Yeah, that's it,' Dean pants. 'Give it to me, Sammy.'

'Shut up,' says Sam distractedly. Dean snorts, but he does pipe down, and Sam kisses him on the shadow of the lowest rib on his right hand side, where his waist starts to swoop inwards when it wouldn't have before, as a reward. Dean shivers, gets his knees under him and pushes his ass up for attention, and Sam bites again just to hear the noise he makes.

Sam slides his fingers between Dean's legs. 'Fuck, you're so wet,' he says hoarsely, unnecessarily. Dean jerks under him when Sam touches his clit, makes a hungry noise that goes straight to Sam's cock. 'Gonna open you up with this,' Sam says, keeps talking and touching, spreading the slickness, and watches Dean's knees start to shake. 'Maybe I won't even need lube, huh Dean? You're giving me plenty to work with here. Gonna go real slow, get you all ready for me. Maybe make you come - you wanna come for me, Dean? Can you? Like this, just from being touched again?' Dean's squirming, and Sam's starting to think maybe he actually can. 

Sam's panting too now, wet into Dean's skin where he's leaning over him, fingers sliding back up to Dean's ass, ghosting against, over, around. In, in happens when Dean shoves at him, and there's enough slick that Sam manages to get up to his first knuckle in without anything other than Dean gasping 'Fucking - fucking _fuck_ , Sammy.'

'Remember,' Sam says, pulling back a little to try and breathe. 'Remember - that girl, Dean, after you made me eat her out, we both - '

'Yeah,' Dean breathes. 'I remember. That what you gonna do to me, Sam?' Sam's working him harder now, two fingers deep, slicked with Dean's own wetness, and Sam keeps abortively twitching his fingers looking for a prostate Dean doesn't have. The way Dean's rutting back against him argues he's getting something out of it, at least - some kind of stimulation, something good enough to chase. 'Sounds good to me, baby - yeah, come on, get in me -' and Sam can _feel_ how ready he is for this, how he quivers, how he _wants_ Sam to spring this on him, so Sam does - pulls his fingers free and loops his arm around Dean's waist and yanks him back until he's got Dean sitting on his lap. 

He wriggles and Sam catches him, stills him, mouths the taut tendon of his neck and brings one hand up to tease a nipple, pinches it, while the other settles Dean to sit wet on his cock, just for a moment. Because he doesn't want to ruin the illusion here, doesn't want to have to reach for the lube that Dean used only last night to fuck him through the mattress when Dean's slick-dripping all by himself. It seems like such a good plan, but Sam's not prepared for how it feels. 

'Mmmm,' Dean purrs, rubbing himself up and down a little while Sam's eyes cross and he has to bite his own lip, because it would be so easy to just lift Dean like this, slip inside … 'Always forget just how much heat you're packing, Sammy - gonna feel so good -' He clutches Sam's hand to his breast and rocks back, arches his spine until his head is lolling on Sam's shoulder and they're aligned back how they should be again - the safe way, the way that isn't gonna make this permanent. 

'You ready?' Sam asks him, growling it, reaching down to steady himself against Dean's ass and then starting to push. 'Fuck, Dean. You're so tight, so good for me, come on big brother, push down for me, gotta open you up -'

'Ohhh yeah,' Dean grits through his teeth, thighs locked up like steel cable. 'Please, Sam, come on, need you baby,' and he's almost whining by the time Sam bottoms out, twitching and writhing. Sam rolls Dean's nipple between his fingers, tugs on it until Dean's started to move, because he knows if he lets himself fuck Dean now it's all gonna end way too fast. But Dean moving on his cock, just that little bit, and Dean's breath coming in fits and starts against Sam's jaw while Sam plays with his breasts - both hands now, pinching, rubbing the rough pads of his thumbs over that soft, velvet skin - that's good. 

'Sammy please,' Dean breathes, and his bossiness is gone now. 'Sammy, Sammy please, I need -'

'Shhhh,' Sam says, stroking one hand down. 'I got you.' Dean's spread-wide over his lap, knees on either side of Sam's, and he's all spread out for Sam to play with, and _God_ Sam wants to let his fingers lick into Dean's untouched places. That girl, the one he keeps flashing back to because she was their first together, that thing they used to do - _sharing_ \- before they slipped up and got a taste of each other … he'd done this, taken her like this, and then fingered her wide and ready for Dean while Dean just watched, before he stepped in and ... 

Sam had come harder than he'd ever done before, to Dean's eyes searching his while they fucked the same girl at the same time. 

And he wants to do that for Dean, wants to make him come and come the way that girl had, wants to be inside him every way he can, but he _can't_. Not if they want Dean to wake up tomorrow morning turned back. 

'C'mon, Sammy, please, it won't - I want you to - I don't care -' Dean moans, still rising and falling in tiny increments on Sam's cock, grabbing for Sam's wrist and trying to guide him, but Sam _won't_. He can't risk that. So he pulls his wet hand away entirely and instead wraps it around Dean's breast again. Dean makes a frustrated noise and Sam can't see what he's doing but there's suddenly the brush of Dean's wrist against Sam's inner thigh and Dean trembles in Sam's lap. 'Ohhhhhhh,' Dean says. 'Yeah. Shit. Guess if you want something done properly … you gotta ...'

Sam buries his teeth in Dean's neck and sucks, because fuck, Dean's touching himself while Sam fucks him, and that's - that's - 

That's perfect. It doesn't count, if Dean's touching himself. That's not virginity-threatening. No-one ever said a girl couldn't get _herself_ off. Sam lets himself thrust up a little and listens to Dean grunt through it. 

'That's it,' Sam encourages him, starting to let himself go a little further, a little harder. He flattens his palm to the back of Dean's hand, starts to guide him into the rhythm Sam wants him in. 'That's it, big brother, ride it out, yeah, just -' and he slips a finger past Dean's wrist to feather-stroke at Dean's clit. It's not inside. It's _not_. 'You're so good for me,' Sam croons into Dean's ear, loving the feeling of him starting to come apart. 'You're such a good girl,' he says without thinking, and Dean tenses, and _ohhh_. 

Sam tips Dean forward onto his hands and knees - _hand_ and knees, actually, other hand still working overtime - and braces himself, starts to piston forward. He's still grinding the heel of his hand into Dean's to force that rhythm, that perfect fucking tempo, just a little faster than the girl starts you off at, trying to sweep her away, and Dean's making little _uh, uh, uhhhh_ noises. 'Good girl,' Sam says, licking Dean's ear. 'Good girl, that's my good girl -' 

'Oh fuck, fuck, Sammy,' Dean hisses, losing his balance, planting his elbow in the mattress to save mashing his face into it and still touching himself like he can't stop. 'Sammy, sweetfuckingjesus -'

'Yeah,' Sam says, mindless now, just hips and cock, just fingers tangled with Dean's and getting soaked, just mouth at Dean's ear, just words, just the idea of fucking his brother's virginity away, wrong, forbidden, delicious, perfect, everything he's ever wanted. 'Yeah, Dean, that's right. Gonna come for me, sweet girl? Gonna? You're so wet for me, making yourself all perfect, you gonna come, make a mess for me to lick out of you -' and Dean's body seems to lock up for a moment and then he goes boneless, breathing out a noise like sweet wrongdoing, and Sam's losing, Sam's lost. He comes so hard he can't feel his fingers and toes any more.

'Holy fuck,' says Dean after some amount of time has passed. Sam is probably crushing him but he doesn't seem to care right now, and Sam _would_ care, but he can't work out how to move yet.

'Seconded,' he says, muffled in Dean's shoulder. His limbs are made of lead. 'I think I might be paralysed or something.'

'Sneaky fucking witches,' Dean grumbles, starting to wriggle. 'Distract us with sex, get away clean. All witches are perverts, man, I swear to God.'

'We'll track her,' says Sam, heaving himself up and pulling out. Dean makes a grossed-out noise. 'Once you're … y'know, your old self again, or whatever.' He flops over onto the mattress next to Dean and can't help kissing him again, just because he's there, just because Sam wants to.

For a moment it's slow, sweet and post-coital, and Sam's kind of thinking about maybe drifting off to sleep with an armful of his brother, and then Dean grins against his jaw and bites. He rolls over 'til he's half on Sam's chest, licking into his mouth possessively. 'Always got a plan, don't you,' he says between kisses. 'Fucking sexy, Sammy.' 

'Jeez, Dean,' Sam protests kind of half-heartedly when he realises Dean's riding his thigh. 'Again? Already?' 

'There's a time limit on this, remember?' Dean says, pulling Sam's hands back up to his breasts. 'C'mon, Sammy, we gotta make the most of it.'

Sam can't deny, Dean's logic's pretty good on this one, so he gives in. 

***

When they finally wear each other out, after Sam's licked the taste of himself from Dean's body and Dean's finally sucked Sam down, looking up under his lashes like a complete vamp and making Sam come practically just from the way he smirks alone, it's hours later. Dean's a warm, mumbling weight in his arms. Sam's completely fucked out, and he falls asleep with Dean spooned in his arms, his leg shoved between Dean's thighs and each hand cupping a breast. 

It makes Sam weirdly wistful as he drifts off; the stupid primate feeling that he's protecting Dean by having him wrapped up in his arms. This has been ... fun. Bizarre and hot and it's rare that the supernatural ever brings them something like that, something that isn't insta-death or world-destroying. But playtime's over. He wants his Dean back, even if normally Dean would never let Sam snuggle up with him like this. 

He falls asleep holding Dean, but when he wakes up it's with Dean's morning wood shoved into the small of his back, just like usual. 

'Thank fuck,' Dean mumbles into the skin between Sam's shoulderblades, rocking forwards unconsciously. 'The boobs were fun and all, but I missed my dick.'

He shows Sam just how much he missed it by rolling him over. Sam's already spreading for him, eager for Dean any way he can have him. 

'Mmmm, hey Sammy,' Dean says, sliding his cock between Sam's thighs, early-morning sex too uncoordinated for proper prep and proper fucking, but no less good with Dean's weight driving Sam's dick into the sheets over and over. 'You miss me too?'

'I _had_ you,' Sam reminds him, arching his back, gently squeezing his thighs together and feeling Dean shudder, rut against him harder. 'Remember? Had you a couple of times, Dean, right here.'

Dean gasps into Sam's skin and comes with barely any warning, hot over Sam's ass, and that tips Sam over too.

'Yeah, I remember,' Dean pants in Sam's ear. 'We should do that again sometime.'

*** 

Three days later, Dean bullies Sam into doing a much-needed laundromat run, and there's something weird about it but Sam can't quite put his finger on what until he finds the pink satin panties bundled up in Dean's shirts. 

They aren't new. Or clean. And Sam has never seen them before, but he suddenly starts to get an inkling about why Dean was so on-board with taking advantage of his temporary situation the other night, why there wasn't more freak-out first before Dean decided to get his freak on. 

He washes the panties and folds them gently when they're dry. They're a secret Dean has trusted him with, finally, so he's going to take care of them - take care of Dean, too. He's got a plan.

'These yours?' he asks Dean when he gets back to the motel, pulls them out and lets them dangle from his fingertips. Dean's got his back to Sam, cleaning his shotgun at the tiny dining table, but he knows what Sam's talking about immediately. Ohhhh, he knows. His shoulders tense for a split second and when he turns around …

Dean taught Sam right from the get-go how to be good to a girl, how to treat her right. Sam's always remembered those lessons. 

And Dean can still be a good girl when he wants to be, dick and all.


End file.
